


Inevitable

by eleanor_lavish, thepsychicclam



Series: Valiant Effort [29]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean frets, Dom evades, and Billy crumbles. You’d think this was a funeral or something!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> Written by EL.

“I think we should have called again.” Sean fretted at the luggage carousel, one large suitcase already in hand. “I mean, you’re sure it’s okay? And where the hell is my other bag?!”

“I told you not to bring so much, babe.” Viggo smiled patiently with his small duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “And there’s no good in calling now. We’re not getting back on any plane for a while.” Sean reached behind him and squeezed Viggo’s hand quickly. Viggo prided himself on never fearing anything without reason. But he had yet to get over the “bus with wings” issue regarding airplanes. He’d spent the entire flight to London alternately gripping the armrest and Sean’s hand, mumbling Buddhist prayers and practicing his yoga breathing.

Sean’s second bag—this one only the size of a golden retriever and not a Saint Bernard—finally emerged from the belly of the airport on the mechanical belt. “I still don’t understand how you could possibly have everything you need in that tiny bag.” Sean made a noise of protest as Viggo handed him the small duffel and wrestled Sean’s bag onto their luggage cart. “We might be here a while, you know.”

Viggo just smiled and pushed the cart toward the car rental counter. Truth was, Viggo never carried much baggage with him anywhere—real or metaphorical. The small things of real importance he kept with him. The rest he just picked up and discarded along the way. The only things he really needed these days were his writing journals, the cell phone only Henry had the number to, and Sean.

Sean had packed two full sized suitcases _plus_ his laptop case and a carry on for less than a week. Though if Sean had his way, the trip could last quite a bit longer. Bean and a few honchos from SB had sat Sean down two days before and given him an ultimatum: either the band agrees to a tour in support of the new album immediately, or they shelve it and walk away.

It was agreed by the room that the album was good enough that option two would not make _anyone_ happy.

Viggo had sat in on the meeting for moral support. But it became pretty clear that Sean was doing just fine on his own. Maybe it was naivety; Sean hadn’t been in the music business long. But watching him in that meeting just reinforced what Viggo already knew-- Sean was simply the best person Viggo had ever met. He wasn’t pretentious, or fake, he didn’t know any angles, or how to bend corners to get what he wanted. He was just tenacious and forceful and honest and true. He should have been amazed that Valiant Effort had gotten as far as they had under Sean’s managerial style, but listening to him argue with Bean’s lawyers, he realized again how hard it was to say no to Sean Astin. The kid was all smiles and stubbornness. Viggo had watched in the meeting as Sean talked the room into not just letting him take a trip to England to talk to the band in person, but got the label to pay for all of his expenses. Plus Viggo’s. It still baffled him.

Viggo shot an understanding glance at the poor man behind the car rental counter who was currently being grilled by Sean on England’s insurance laws. “Forget it, babe. The label’s paying, remember? Even if we beat the shit out of it, they’ll still pay.” Viggo reached over Sean’s waving arm and signed the rental agreement. The rental agent handed over the keys gratefully.

An hour later, they were shooting down the M2 toward Canterbury. Sean had taken to fidgeting as Viggo navigated through heavy morning traffic. “We can’t be late!”

“It’s impossible to be late if they don’t even know we’re coming.”

“It’s a _funeral_ , Vig. You can’t be late, period.”

“We won’t be then.” Viggo smiled to himself at Sean’s exasperated sigh. “If you want to call Mack, you’d better call soon. He’ll be putting her down soon.”

“Shit! What the hell time is it there?” He began to dig through his bag for his cell phone. Sean’s brother Mack had flown in from LA to pick up Ali for the week. Mack was the only family Sean could trust, and he refused to leave his daughter with anyone else. He’d actually tried to get SB to pay for her to come along on the trip but Bean had put his foot down. “A week without your kid is not going to kill you Mr. Astin,” he’d said with an arched eyebrow.

But Viggo had watched him say goodbye to Ali and Mack at JFK and he wasn’t so sure. He’d hugged her so long, they barely made their own flight.

“How is she?” Sean left off all pleasantries and got right to business.

Viggo heard a garbled reply coming from the cell before Sean spoke again.

“Okay, I guess. Long. And remind me not to fly with Mr. I Don’t Need Xanax again.” Viggo whacked Sean on the arm and laughed. “The whole time, huh? That’s my girl! Didn’t I tell you she’s the best baby in the history of babies?”

Sean babbled on about Ali’s perfect toes and Viggo let himself get lost in the countryside. They were outside the city now and the morning rush had dwindled to a few trucks barreling along. Viggo made a mental note not to let Sean drive while they were there. The lack of a speed limit would drive Sean to distraction.

Glancing at the passenger seat, Viggo let go of the last of his flight anxiety and began to refocus his energy. He hoped the boys had patched things up on their own in the aftermath of Orlando’s tragedy. If they hadn’t, Sean might have an uphill battle on his hands.

*

Orlando didn’t really _have_ a butler. Dom had to remind himself of this every time the doorbell rang and an impeccably dressed man in a gray flannel suit answered it. Lady Bloom had hired help for the day in the form of caterers, valets, a whole cleaning staff on retainer, and this guy. The butler.

Lady Bloom was all about keeping up appearances. Dom grinned to himself as he passed Billy, shirtsleeves rolled up as he helped a young woman in a maid’s uniform move yet another huge floral wreath into the parlor. Elijah winked at Dom from the corner of the room and took a bite from an apple. “Just a bit more to the left, Bills. No, _my_ left. We don’t want to bury the piano.”

Billy grunted under the weight. “If you aren’t going to be of any bloody use, Elijah, you can sod the fuck off!”

Dom laughed with Elijah and narrowly avoided being thwacked with Billy’s elbow as he moved the arrangement again. “We’d best get upstairs and get ready, lads. Time is short,” Dom noted, glancing at the grandfather clock.

Elijah sighed and threw the apple core into a bin that was promptly removed by the maid to be emptied. Billy shook his head in amazement. “That’s just creepy. Rubbish can’t even been seen in bins?”

“Well, you know how Lord Bloom felt about fruits.” The line drew a groan from Billy and an eye roll from Elijah.

“No talking ill of the dead, Dominic.” Billy’s tone was serious but Dom smiled cheekily and threw an arm around his shoulders as they headed up the stairs to the bedrooms.

“Someone’s got to shake things up around here,” Dom said.

Billy narrowed his eyes. “Dom. What are you up to?”

“What?” Dom’s eyes were all innocence. “I’m insulted! I’m preparing for my best friend’s father’s funeral, William. What could I _possibly_ be up to?”

“Dominic.”

But Dom just mussed Billy’s hair and ran into his bedroom.

He heard the yells from downstairs as he was putting the finishing second coat of polish on his nails. Blowing on them, Dom ran down the stairs, around the corner and straight into a full mouth kiss.

“Viggo!” Dom threw his arms around Viggo’s broad shoulders as Sean laughed behind him. “What are you doing here!?” He looked over at Sean, and then past him to Billy who was wearing a very bemused expression.

“Not up to anything, huh?” Billy’s arms were crossed and Dom could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“What?”

“It’s _blue_!” Elijah’s voice was at least an octave higher than normal.

“What? Oh, this?” Dom could barely hold back a smile. “I needed a new suit. Blue is an acceptable suit color, Elijah.”

“I think shiny metallic _electric_ blue would not quite make Mr. Blackwell’s list of acceptable funeral attire, Dominic.” Dom couldn’t help but notice Elijah’s suit was a little loose on him, but it was navy and tailored and, frankly, stunning on him. His hair still fell in his eyes, but in a suit Elijah actually looked his age. _Maybe VE should have gone the Hives route. Put Elijah in a suit every night._

“But doesn’t it suit me to a tee?” He winked at Billy. Billy would get the joke.

Billy’s gaze shot past Dom and instantly sobered. Dom turned slowly to face Orlando. Buying the suit had seemed like a great idea yesterday, a big ‘fuck you’ to Lord Bloom and his misguided ideas about propriety. Every split lip and bruised arm and black eye Orlando had ever shown up to rehearsal with came bubbling up in one extravagant purchase. But Lord Bloom wasn’t here. Just Orlando and Sam and Lady Bloom and maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all…

“Hey Orli—Mum wanted to know if your new guests would be staying… Holy shit, Dom.” Sam stopped short in the foyer. Orlando was staring at Dom with wide eyes. Dom registered that the rest of the group was holding their collective breath behind him. Just as Dom opened his mouth to apologize, to beg forgiveness for being a prat, Sam began to laugh. Hard.

“Oh my god!” She could barely breathe and she reached out a hand to steady herself on her brother’s shoulder. “Dominic Monaghan, you are my fucking hero!” Dom felt Orlando taking in the situation—Dom’s suit, the spiked hair, the matching blue nail polish, the Doc Marten boots, Sam hysterical on his shoulder, his father’s friends just minutes from arriving.

“Samantha.” Dom’s heart almost stopped at Orlando’s tone. “This is not… it’s just not… oh fuck.” And then Orlando collapsed in hysterical laughter with Sam, pulling Dom into a bear hug.

“It’s fucking perfect, mate,” he whispered against Dom’s skin. “Just make sure the Reverend Marshall gets a good look.”

“And try to say ‘bollocks’ as much as possible!” Sam added, wiping her eyes.

“I could spike his wine with E?” Dom suggested helpfully.

“Dominic!” Billy was pink with exasperation. “Don’t even think about it.”

*

Two hours later, Dom had managed to charm the pants (figuratively) off of Orlando’s great-aunt Clarice, who informed him that her cousin Gerald had been a musician too and fond of ladies hats, and charmed the pants (almost literally) off the entire hired wait staff who served him an obscene number of mini quiches. He’d also managed to render the Reverend Marshall speechless no less than three times, the last with an earnest comment about wanting to be reincarnated as a vibrator. It was turning out to be an almost amusing afternoon.

Elijah caught up with him at the buffet engaged in a conversation about the merits of horseracing with three of Lord Bloom’s litigators. “Hey. Can I borrow you for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure, Lij. Gentlemen?” He left them to argue over the last of the finger sandwiches and followed Elijah to the small alcove off the kitchen. Elijah kept shifting his weight from foot to foot, twisting the silver rings on his fingers.

“I’ve been talking to Sean…” The look in Elijah’s eyes was enough to make Dom wince.

 _Oh shit._ Dom had been actively avoiding this conversation for days. “Lij, this isn’t the time, mate…”

“Yeah, I know, but Sean needs to know… We all… Dom. What are you doing here?” It came out like a plea.

“Orli needs me.”

“I… we all need you, man.” Dom took a sharp intake of breath as Elijah’s fingers entwined with his. He could feel the calluses on Elijah’s palms. Elijah was standing close, too close, and Dom looked around for an escape. “Stop it.” Elijah’s tone was icy.

“Stop what?” He smiled at Elijah and pulled his hand away to fix an imaginary crease in his cuff.

“Pulling away from me.”

“Lij.”

Elijah crossed his arms and Dom saw the hurt in his eyes. “You remember that you willingly had your hand down my pants not two days ago, yeah?”

 _Not the time for this. Not the time…_ Dom looked quickly over his shoulder to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “Elijah. We are not talking about this now.” He said it through clenched teeth and knew it came out harsher than intended when Elijah’s fist intersected with his collarbone.

“Fuck you,” Elijah hissed quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention than Dom did. “We _never_ fucking talk about it, do we? Sean’s gonna need an answer though. So fucking think about it, asshole.”

Elijah stormed back through the kitchen. Dom stood in the alcove trying to work up a feeling of righteous indignation. But he could only remember the way Elijah’s skin tasted of saline and cloves.

*

Billy found Orlando in the kitchen. The caterers had finally cleared out, Lady Bloom had retired to her bedroom, and the house was settling in to quiet. Dom and Sam had gone out to have few pints and catch up. Elijah was giving Viggo and Sean a tour of the upstairs rooms.

Billy hadn’t yet managed a moment alone with Orlando. Not that he believed he could be much of a comfort. Thank God for Dom—his suit was the only thing that made Orlando smile all day.

Orlando was sipping a weak chardonnay and looking out the window into the back garden. He was pale and perfect, long hair pulled tastefully back to the nape of his neck. Billy’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of him. Orlando was the only person to ever make Billy’s breath catch.

“Hey there.”

Orlando looked away from the window and then back again. “Hey.” It was more of an exhalation than a word. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, actually.”

“How did you think it would be?”

“I don’t know. Different. Harder.”

But Billy could see the tension in Orlando’s shoulders, how unnaturally still he was. Orlando hadn’t cried for his father since they arrived in England. Billy didn’t know how, but he knew it for certain. It was like Orlando was trying to finally be the perfect, stoic son.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you know. Least of all me. You can let yourself feel whatever you need to.” Billy thought back to his Gran’s living room, to the empty platitudes heaped on his father by neighbors who had barely known him. He tried to think of something to say that would be real, tried to remember what he wished he’d heard that day. “I know you think you should be following some code of grief, but there is no right way to do this. He was your father, and no one knows what that meant but you and him…”

Billy looked up from his monologue to see Orlando shaking, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. “He never knew me, Billy. He never knew who I was, and now he’s gone.” Orlando’s voice was barely a whisper. “He’s gone and I still _hate_ him so much and it’s never going to get better.” He slumped against the cabinets. “Oh _God_ , Billy. I am such a horrible, horrible person.”

Billy crossed to him in three long strides and took Orlando’s shaking hands into his own. “No, you are not. Orlando. Look at me.” He took Orlando’s chin in his hand, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You are not a horrible person. You are not a horrible son, either.” Orlando’s eyes were wide and wet and full of pain. His hand softened its grip on Orlando’s face and slid to cup the back of his neck, fingers massaging in little circles. Billy saw himself mirrored in Orlando’s pain. _I can’t take the pain away, love. I want to but I can’t._

“Billy…” Their faces were so close that Billy’s nose brushed the soft skin of Orlando’s cheek. Orlando let out a shuddering breath and Billy was suddenly aware of Orlando’s body leaning in to his, thighs and arms touching. He could hear his blood rushing in his veins. He hadn’t meant to get this close. Orlando’s eyes flashed bright as Billy’s other hand traced his hip experimentally. “Billy…” But Billy swallowed his own name on Orlando’s lips.

Orlando kissed him back eagerly, pulling Billy into him with strong arms. Billy slipped a hand under Orlando’s jacket and up his warm back, the other still holding firm at Orlando’s neck. Billy could feel Orlando’s hands tugging him closer until Billy’s thigh came in hot contact with Orlando’s groin. He whimpered into Billy’s mouth, slipping a thigh between Billy’s legs. Billy’s mind went blank with white-hot noise. He couldn’t stop his body from rocking hard into Orlando, both of them gasping from the friction. “Orlando…”

“We should go… not here,” Orlando whispered. Orlando’s mouth was on him again, a preemptive strike against Billy’s protests. He push/pulled Billy down the small hallway with hands and lips, both of them tripping over each other and bouncing off the walls with slight thumps. Billy wondered which would be bruised worse in the morning—his elbow or his mouth.

They tumbled into the library and Orlando had the strength of mind to pull away long enough to lock the door behind him. Billy smiled at the thought that Orlando was still nervous about having sex with his mum somewhere in the house. He froze as soon as the thought was finished. _What the fuck am I doing?_ “Orli. We shouldn’t…”

But Orlando kissed him again, pushing the words back with his tongue, hands folded tightly around Billy’s biceps. He pulled back slowly, wetly, sliding one hand down and into Billy’s and squeezing hard. “Please, Billy. Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” He pressed his head forward, repeating the mantra into the sensitive skin below Billy’s ear. Everything that Billy had felt, had _needed_ for two years came racing to the surface, floating on his skin, making him itch and burn with want. Two years of control crumbled as Orlando’s words faded to a ragged whisper.

“Love you. So much.”

Billy’s kiss was fierce enough to make Orlando take a step backward. Billy’s hands acted on their own accord, tugging and tearing Orlando’s jacket off his shoulders and to the floor, followed quickly by his tie. Orlando tried to undo the buttons on his dress shirt without breaking the kiss and succeeded in getting through half of them before Billy ripped that off too. Greeted with the pale expanse of Orlando’s chest, Billy’s hands roamed everywhere at once as if to make up for years of lost opportunities, tracing tattoos he’d memorized his dreams. Orlando’s hands, meanwhile, were making short work of his shirt and tie until Billy felt a second of cool air against hot skin followed by the heavenly feeling of Orlando pressed against him. Billy was so hot and hard by this point, he was mildly surprised he could still stand. He could feel Orlando’s cock pressed painfully into his hip and snaked a hand between them. Orlando responded with a shudder that ran the full length of his body.

“Sofa.” They were still standing just inside the door, and Billy was momentarily confused until Orlando began backing them both into the room to a brown leather sofa near the large fireplace. Billy took advantage of the separation to kick off his shoes and reach for the button of Orlando’s trousers. Orlando took over quickly, losing his shoes, trousers and pants in the ten steps from the door. Billy stopped short.

“My God.” Orlando stood completely naked, flushed pink and panting and hard and reaching for him and Billy could barely breathe. It was every dream he’d ever had and all he had to do was reach out his hand and…

“Billy?” Orlando’s long fingers stroked through Billy’s sweat streaked hair and over his bruised lips.

Billy whispered because it felt like the right thing to do. “Don’t wake me, alright?”

Orlando smiled as he leaned in for another kiss. “Okay.”

Amazingly, Orlando’s hand found Billy’s cock first, pushing his trousers down around his thighs and holding him fast until their cocks brushed one another, jumping from the stimulation. Billy broke the kiss to look down because he had to see it, had to see Orlando’s hand wrapped around him, see Orlando’s cock glistening with want. Billy ran one finger down the full length of Orlando’s cock, gathering a drop of precum from the head as Orlando hissed in his ear and bringing it to his own lips. Tasting Orlando. _Please please please don’t wake me._

Leaving his trousers in a heap on the Oriental rug, Billy pushed Orlando a step back until he bumped the sofa with his knees and sank down, pulling Billy on top of him. Lying there, every inch of him pressed against Orlando Bloom, Billy found his mouth filled with words he hadn’t said. _Beautiful, perfect, need. Yes. Always. You._ And the one that scared him more than anything.

But Orlando’s mouth caught them all before they could escape.

They ground into one another for what seemed an eternity, Billy trailing kisses down Orlando’s collarbone; tongue tracing ink to sensitive nipples; Orlando arching beneath him. Billy’s body was frantic for contact, friction. As he slid down Orlando’s body to taste the skin above Orlando’s heart, his cock slipped between Orlando’s thighs and Orlando sighed and went nearly boneless, wrapping one long leg around Billy’s waist. Billy stopped breathing.

“Orli, I don’t… I don’t have,” But Orlando had already taken Billy’s hand in his own and drawn it to his mouth, sucking on Billy’s fingers, wetting them, giving them back…

Orlando’s eyes caught Billy’s, heavy-lidded and needful. “I just need you. Just you.”

He had to do it. Billy Boyd was going to fuck Orlando Bloom and he had officially lost all say in the matter.

His first finger slid into Orlando with almost no resistance and he added the second almost immediately. Orlando’s head arched back into the cushion with a sharp intake of breath. Billy nuzzled at his neck, slowing his rhythm until he felt Orlando relax entirely around him. By three fingers, Orlando was tossing his head back and forth and Billy’s arm was shaking at the effort of holding himself up.

“Please, Billy, God.” Orlando’s fingers dug into his shoulders, his back, wherever they could gain purchase.

Billy rose quickly to his knees, sinking slightly into the sagging cushions before finding the right angle. Orlando traced his foot up Billy’s side until his ankle was hooked over Billy’s shoulder. Billy pushed experimentally against Orlando’s opening and they hissed in unison at the sensation. Pushing in slowly, Billy closed his eyes to memorize the feeling of Orlando opening around him, pausing when he hit a moment of resistance, starting again when Orlando’s hips pushed up into him. He opened his eyes as Orlando let out a choked laugh. Smiling, Orlando reached down and twined his fingers with Billy’s. That simple intimate gesture almost pushed Billy over the edge. “Orlando.” He almost sobbed the name, holding on to his control by a thread. He reached down and took Orlando’s cock into his hand. Orlando’s hand squeezed his tightly.

“Billy!” Billy was strangely relieved to hear his own barely controlled emotion echoed in Orlando’s cry. He leaned forward, Orlando’s body bending with him until their foreheads touched. He moved his hand experimentally, then his hips, establishing a rhythm that Orlando copied stroke for stroke until they were both shaking with anticipation. Billy altered the rhythm just enough to break Orlando’s concentration, simultaneously running his thumb roughly over the head of Orlando’s cock. Orlando cried out and tightened his leg around Billy’s waist until Billy was buried inside of him as he rode out his orgasm.

Billy had never seen anything so gorgeous in his entire life. He was so enamored of Orlando in that moment that his own orgasm almost caught him by surprise. He buried his face in Orlando’s neck as he emptied himself into Orlando, the blood rushing past his ears until he was deaf from it. As he came down slowly, he could hear Orlando whispering in his ear, words of love and forever and waiting. He wanted to say it, _say everything_ , but even now the words wouldn’t come.

“Orli.” He spoke into skin. “I do. I do, so much.”

Orlando pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know.”

As Orlando’s arms circled him, holding them together until their hearts slowed to normal, Billy lifted his head. Orlando’s eyes were bright, and just a little sad, but there wasn’t any pain in them.

~Fin


End file.
